In Paris With You
by theoriginalmcgoo
Summary: Nayanna Rivergron RPF. What exactly went down in Paris? Based off of 'In Paris With You' by James Fenton.


A/N: Based off of "In Paris With You" by James Fenton. Also RPF so if you get offended by that then don't read it.

Dianna doesn't think she's done anything out of the ordinary. She doesn't think so, but then she hears Naya on the phone with her mom saying something along the lines of, "she's such a sweetheart, she's taking me to Paris."

It's because of this "sweetheart" attitude that they do end up in Paris. It's what's found her on the balcony of this sleazy hotel room (it's a wonder there even is a balcony) that they're only staying in to keep low-profile. The wine they ordered from the lame excuse for room service tastes cheap, they both know it, but it does the job.

Naya likes to think she's nothing like Santana. She's right, for the most part, except for two traits which she swears the writers took straight from her life: raging lesbian and weepy drunk.

She's had less than two glasses tonight, but already the lines are blurring and there are tears on her cheeks.

She has every right, she reasons. Heather broke up with her less than a week ago, even though technically they weren't 'together'. It turns out having sex with your best friend who is straight and has a boyfriend is unacceptable, althoughHeather didn't seem to mind until Taylor got suspicious.

It's messed up, she knows it is, so now she's sitting on this balcony, overlooking this small area of Paris, confessing everything to Dianna.

"I should have known she would choose him."

"If it's any consolation, she should have chosen you. A month ago I would have bet any money that she would choose you." Dianna scoots a little closer, wrapping an arm around Naya's waist.

"You mean, you knew?" Naya sniffs, wiping away some tears, which are immediately replace with fresh ones.

"You butt-dialled me once when you two were, you know? After that I watched you a little more carefully, and I kicked myself over how I didn't notice before."

"Wow."

"Yeah." A long moment passes before Dianna speaks again, "I would have chosen you."

It's mere seconds before she feels Naya's hand on her chin, turning her head away from the Paris backdrop. Eyes flicker down to lips and back up again, before Naya's hand is sliding round to grip the back of her neck.

The kiss is anything but tentative, and in the brief moment before Dianna loses power over her mind she wonders how Heather could turn this down.

It's the first time Dianna's felt needed in a long time. There's a hunger to the kiss that tells her Naya's channeling her resentment for Taylor, for Heather, for the whole situation into it.

When Naya feels Dianna kissing back, she stops.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Before she's even finished speaking, she's pulling Naya's face towards her.

"What if I'm just on the rebound?"

"I don't care."

"What about when we go back home?"

"We aren't at home. I'm in Paris with you."

It's good enough for Naya.

An hour later, after kissing and nothing more, DIanna stops and stands up.

"I thought you wanted this."

Dianna holds her hand out for Naya to take. "I do."

She's led through the doors and towards the bed - the double bed that they should have been sharing as friends. This is where Dianna's confidence wanes. She hasn't really thought past the bed - because let's face it, her mind was elsewhere - so she's hoping Naya takes the hint.

She does, an it's seconds before the back of DIanna's knees hit the bed and Naya climbs atop her to straddle them.

The night's a blur from then on. As the sun breaks through the clouds over Paris again, Dianna wakes up feeling more alive than she has in a while.

She wonders, briefly, when the trip that was supposed to make Naya feel better turned into something to make her feel better. She guesses it was sometime around when they had sex until the early hours of the morning, and for a moment she feels a fleeting feeling of guilt.

When Naya wakes up and gives her that smile, she realises it's helped both of them, and the guilt soon disappears.

"Can we forget about the Louvre? Can we just forget about all there is to do in Paris?"

Dianna's about to protest - because, come on, she loves Paris - but Naya's hand is moving to rest on her bare stomach. As it brushes lower, and lower still, any objections DIanna may have had die on her lips.

By the time they're done, the clock's showing late afternoon, and Dianna wonders where the time went. She's lying, exhausted, with the sheets pooled around her middle, and Naya's head on her chest. She doesn't know why she was going to protest in the first place.

"Are we going to talk about this?"

"Are you going to turn around when we get back to LA and tell me out 'arrangement' isn't going to work?"

"Naya I-"

"I thought you would." The weight of Naya's words, the sorrow in her voice as she says them, cuts Dianna deeper than it should. It hurts more than a casual night together should. There's a long pause. "Let's talk about Paris."

"What?"

"I'm in Paris with you. Paris is easier to talk about than feelings."

"Naya."

"The sky's really pretty at this time of day."

"You're really pretty at this time of day."

"This is just a Paris thing, right?"

"If that's all you want it to be."

"What if I want more?"

"Then you can have it. It's that simple."

Naya leans up to place a kiss on DIanna's lips. The smirk that's spread onto her lips tells Dianna that she's got her. This is more than just Paris. Something shifts in the atmosphere.

"I'm in Paris with you. You're really beautiful. You're really good in bed." At those words a blush spread across Dianna's cheeks.

"Shut up."

"Am I embarrassing you?" Dianna laughs and Naya knows she isn't at all offended. "I'm in Paris with you."


End file.
